


Not like this

by HopeSilverheart



Series: Loving Em at 2AM [77]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - New Girl Fusion, Boys In Love, Drinking Games, Drunk Derek Hale, Drunk Stiles Stilinski, First Kiss, Fluff, Fools in Love, Getting Together, Humor, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Minor Allison Argent/Lydia Martin, Roommates, Sexual Tension, True American, Unresolved Romantic Tension, oblivious boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25869115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeSilverheart/pseuds/HopeSilverheart
Summary: Some people would count a kiss with Derek Hale as a huge win, but Stiles wasn’t just anyone. Derek was his roommate and kissing him would only make things weird, and he couldn’t believe they had somehow found themselves in this situation, with all their friends yelling at them to kiss from the other side of the closet door.“This is ridiculous,” Derek rolled his eyes. “We are not going to kiss! I am not going to kiss Stilinski! Just let us out before you forget about us and leave us in here all night.”Or: Derek wants to kiss Stiles. Just... Not like this.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Loving Em at 2AM [77]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764400
Comments: 6
Kudos: 224





	Not like this

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatnerdemryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatnerdemryn/gifts).



Stiles loved drinking games.

He loved getting progressively tipsier as the night went on and forgetting about his troubles for his little while. He loved the way Isaac always forgot the rules to ‘True American’, loved the way Scott could never focus for long enough to win a game, and loved the way even _Derek_ let himself go for a little while. That, of all things, was what he loved most.

What he didn’t love, however, was losing the drinking games he had started. He wasn’t even sure how it had happened, since the only real rule of ‘True American’ was not to fall in the lava, and he _definitely_ hadn’t touched the floor. And yet somehow, he had lost.

Sure, some people would count a kiss with Derek Hale as a huge win, but Stiles wasn’t just anyone. Derek was his roommate and kissing him would only make things weird, and he couldn’t believe they had somehow found themselves in this situation, with all their friends yelling at them to kiss from the other side of the closet door.

He knew Scott was leading the chant, because his stupid best friend _knew_ Stiles had once been attracted to Derek. Not anymore, though, because the older man was a broody writer who didn’t even write and who never gave anyone the time of day. Any attraction Stiles had once had for Derek had completely vanished after living with him for over a year, which only made their little predicament even more awkward.

At least if he had been attracted to Derek, he could have faked his enjoyment and acted like kissing his roommate wasn’t one of the strangest things he had ever done.

“This is ridiculous,” Derek rolled his eyes, banging on the door as hard as he could and making someone – Allison, Stiles thought – yelp on the other side. “We are not going to kiss! I am not going to kiss Stilinski! Just let us out before you forget about us and leave us in here all night.”

“You either kiss, or staying there all night is _exactly_ what’s going to happen to you,” Isaac cackled loudly. “It’s not a huge deal, Derek, you just have to smooch Stiles a little bit and send us a picture. Or tell us and we’ll open the door to get the best view.”

“This is stupid,” Stiles groaned, the pounding and yelling really not helping his alcohol-induced headache. What he wouldn’t have done for another beer right then. “Who even came up with this new rule? Since when do we kiss during True American! It’s stupid! I bet you’re all in the lava right now, losing horribly!”

“Stiles,” Derek sighed heavily, staring at the younger man as though he had never met anyone quite so stupid. “ _You’re_ the one who came up with the rule because you wanted to give Scott a chance to hook up with Kira. And then it backfired on us, because your little friend wasn’t able to get his shit together and match up with his lovebird.”

“Did you just use the word _lovebird_?” Stiles gaped. “Who even uses that? Dude, why do you use that? I’m pretty sure the last word someone thinks about when they look at you, romantic partner or not, is lovebird.”

He knew he was missing the point, but he would really rather not think about the role he had played in his own downfall. He had just wanted Scott to be happy, and he had known a kiss with Kira would give his best friend all the joy he was looking for. Unfortunately for him – and for Derek and Stiles – Scott wasn’t the smartest human being in the world, and he had completely failed at the one thing he had been supposed to do.

He’d be lucky if Derek didn’t replace all his shampoos and hair conditioners with glue or something equally ridiculous. And Stiles would have to make sure to play a prank or two on their roommates during the upcoming week, just to drive his point home.

He _didn’t_ want to kiss Derek, thank you very much. He knew there was some sort of tension between the two of them that didn’t exist between the others, but it didn’t mean anything. It was just latent hatred, a history of walking in on each other whilst the other was having sex, and a little bit of past mutual attraction. That was all.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss!” The chant continued. Stiles thought he could even hear Cora and Lydia, which was ridiculous because neither of them had been there at the beginning of the night. “Come on, don’t be cowards! We know you want to, and we know it’d be hot!”

Stiles grit his teeth at Erica’s comment, all but glaring a hole through the closet door as the chanting finally faded. When Stiles tried the latch, however, he was horrified to find it was still locked.

“Hey!” He called out. “Hey! You forgot to unlock the door! You forgot to open the closet, you idiots! Get us out of here, _please_!”

“They’re not going to let us out until we do what they want us to, you know?” Derek said from behind him. Stiles turned to narrow his eyes at the man and promptly started knocking against the closet door again, hoping at least _one_ of their friends would take pity on them. “The only thing you’re going to get from that is a bruised hand. If you want to make yourself really useful, why don’t you at least punch a hole through that thing?”

“Punch a hole through- Who do you think I am? Superman?” Stiles scoffed. “We’re not all as buff as you are, and even you couldn’t punch a hole through it. And no, I don’t want you to try. Please don’t try. Derek, it’s only going to end up with- Of course you’re going to do it anyways.”

To be fair, Derek’s attempt _was_ a lot better than Stiles’. Still, a drunk Derek was not a smart Derek, which meant the door was still standing steadily, and Derek was sporting a bruised hand. And so was Stiles, for that matter.

“Why did you hold up three fingers?” He huffed as they both nursed their hands tenderly and leaned against opposite sides of the closet. “You know three is my number. I _always_ choose three, and you always choose something else just to piss me off. So why break our unofficial rule the one time there was actually something at stake? If you had held up a one, as always, we could have avoided all of this.”

“We’re playing True American, Stiles,” Derek grumbled, as though that single statement was answer enough. Stiles continued to stare at his roommate blankly, hoping his face made it very clear to Derek that it was _not_ answer enough. He had been playing True American too, and he definitely hadn’t differed from his usual tactics. “I’m drunk, idiot.”

“And so am I!” Stiles exclaimed, letting his arms flail around him uselessly as proof of his inebriation. “We’re all drunk! It doesn’t mean you should forget everything that happened before you got a few drops of alcohol in your system. 3 is my number, which means you’re the one at fault.”

“You’re the one who came up with the variation on the rules,” Derek raised his eyebrows, clearly unimpressed by Stiles’ reasoning. “We could still be out there crushing the others as a team, but instead we’re in here, stinking the place up with alcohol and stuck until we _kiss_.”

“No,” Stiles shook his head wildly. “We’re stuck until one of our friends caves and lets us out of here. Except if you want to kiss me and get this over with, but I have a feeling you’d really rather not do that.”

“Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t want to kiss me,” Derek said impassively, raising his eyebrows at Stiles challengingly. “Maybe you’re the coward here. You know _I_ never back down from a good game, no matter how unconventional the rules are.”

“Besides, we’re drunk,” Stiles added. “We probably won’t remember this in the morning. So come on, kiss me. Come over here, get your lips on mine, and let us out of here already.”

“Why are you making it sound like it’s _my_ responsibility?” Derek frowned.

Stiles snorted, looking between his spot – now in the middle of the closet – and Derek’s – who was still stuck against his wall. Clearly, one of them had a little more of an issue with kissing their roommate, and it wasn’t Stiles. He may not want to kiss Derek, but he would do it if it got them out of the closet.

And then Derek was inches away from him, and Stiles was trying to remember how to breathe and forgetting why they were supposed to kiss in the first place. Derek hadn’t lost his stupidly warm cardigan quite yet, but he had lost his pants and his socks, and Stiles was wearing nothing but his boxers, and it suddenly occurred to him that they were all but naked, enclosed in a small space together.

If Derek were anyone else, or if Stiles had been just a little drunker, he could have been a great time in there.

Instead, he was staring at Derek and wondering when the man had gotten so _hot_ and asking himself if he should have made an effort to shave or work out a little before their impromptu party. The mere thought had him giggling, because who cared what Derek thought about his body? It wasn’t like they were going to do anything more than kiss.

If even that, since the older man was still hesitating, leaning in only to back away and all but jumping out of Stiles’ way when he tried to initiate the kiss himself.

“Dude, I get that there’s no love lost between the two of us and that I’m just the roommate you somewhat tolerate, but you gotta give me something here,” Stiles sighed. “I’m trying to make this easy for you, giving you a chance to just do it very fast whilst I take a picture, but you’re making it really hard. It’s only a kiss. They’re not asking you to sleep with me.”

The garbled sound Derek made as Stiles mentioned the two of them sleeping together was something he would never forget but as entertaining as it was, it wasn’t going to get them back to the party. Or even better, their bedrooms. Alone, away from each other, sleeping in two very different beds. Obviously.

“How do you want to-”

“Just kiss me!”

Derek’s hands came up to Stiles’ waist before immediately moving to his back, and finally disappearing from his body entirely. The man looked seconds away from throwing up, his face scrunched up in either disgust, discomfort, constipation, or a mix of all those things.

“Kiss me!”

“I’m trying!” Derek cried out, tightening his hands into fists at his sides and screwing his eyes shut, almost as though looking at Stiles was too much for him to handle.

“God, just fucking kiss me already!” Stiles repeated, trying to lean forward to capture Derek’s lips but finding himself on his ass as Derek pushed him away _hard_. He glanced up at his roommate with wide eyes, wondering what on earth he had done to deserve such treatment.

Sure, he wasn’t the most attractive person in the world, but it wasn’t like kissing him would have caused Derek physical pain or anything of the sort.

“Why can’t you just kiss me?!” Stiles threw his hands in the air as he stood again, glaring at Derek as angrily as he could manage whilst drunk and slightly turned on – although how _that_ had happened was a mystery to him. “Kiss me, Derek. Kiss me!”

“Not like this!”

They both froze. Stiles’ eyes widened comically as Derek covered his face with his hands and turned away from the younger man. For a minute, they stayed like that, both immobile and obviously reeling from the implication hidden within Derek’s words.

“What- What do you mean?” Stiles croaked when he couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “What do you mean, not like this? Is there another way you would want to kiss me? Because if so, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I put you in this situation and made you feel like you had to-”

“I didn’t mean anything,” Derek growled, spinning around and poking Stiles in the chest. A shiver wracked through the brunet’s body at the touch of skin on skin, and he vehemently hoped Derek hadn’t noticed. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just wouldn’t want to kiss anyone like this. Kisses, touches… They’re supposed to mean something to everyone involved, and I don’t want to do something so meaningless with you.”

“That’s not what you meant,” Stiles shook his head slowly, staring at Derek as though he had never seen him before. “That’s not what you meant and we both know it. Derek, what do you mean _not like this_?”

“I don’t know!” Derek yelled, sighing and turning to bang his fist against the closest wall, panting heavily and wincing as he pulled it back towards him.

“Why on earth would you go punching walls with your already injured hand?!” Stiles exclaimed, rushing forward to help his roommate – his _friend_ , despite everything they said and did to each other. “That has to be the most idiotic thing you’ve done all night, and I saw you jump on top of Allison for support earlier, so that’s really saying something.”

“I just- I don’t know, alright?” Derek murmured, and Stiles got the distinct impression that he wasn’t only talking about the wall or his hand or why he had decided to be such an idiot. “Do you think they’ll let us out of here if we tell them I’m bleeding?”

“Maybe,” Stiles shrugged. “But there’s a good chance that they’ll only push us back inside once they realise we were lyin- Holy shit, you’re bleeding! Derek, there is _blood_ on your hand right now! We need to get you out of here! Why didn’t you- Oh, right, okay. Yeah, we should get them to open the door.”

After that, it only took Stiles a few minutes to convince Kira to open the door for them. The girl was – for some reason – a huge fan of Derek’s, and she hadn’t been able to resist Stiles’ pleading voice when he told her that the older man had gotten injured.

As soon as they were free, Derek hurried towards the kitchen, dragging Kira along with him and leaving Stiles to wonder what on earth had just happened – and what could have happened – between them.

He had a feeling it was a lot bigger than a single game of True American and a dare issued by their friends. And he had a feeling that whatever it was, whatever Derek had meant when he had told Stiles that he didn’t want to kiss him _like this_ , wasn’t half as bad as Derek seemed to think it was.

Because even as the man walked away, even as Stiles lost sight of him and was pulled back into the thick of the game, he couldn’t get his heart to stop beating rapidly, and he couldn’t get his mind off Derek’s words.

If he didn’t want to kiss Stiles like this, then how _did_ he want to kiss him?

* * *

Stiles couldn’t sleep.

He had been twisting around in his sheets for the better part of three hours, and he couldn’t figure out why. Or he could, but he didn’t know what to make of it. He didn’t know what to make of the fact that, even hours after he had been let out of the damned closet, he was still thinking about Derek’s warmth and Derek’s words and _Derek_.

He wanted to barge into the other man’s bedroom and ask him what the whole thing had been about. He wanted to tell him he hadn’t wanted to kiss him like that either. He wanted to talk about what happened, because the silence was killing him more than anything else was.

And most of all, he wanted to kiss him.

Maybe he wasn’t as over Derek as he had thought he’d been. Maybe he had just been repressing his feelings and trying to cover up the pain he had felt when Derek had first started dating Jennifer – stupidly perfect Jennifer who couldn’t do any wrong until she turned into a psychopath. Maybe he had just forgotten what it felt like to actually like someone, too caught up in one night stands and meaningless relationships he couldn’t have cared less about. Or maybe he was just desperate to kiss someone again.

No matter the reason, though, Stiles found himself unable to sleep because he was too busy thinking about kissing Derek, and that was unacceptable. Derek already took up most of his days with his surly comments and bad attitude; he wasn’t allowed to take up Stiles’ day too.

God, Stiles didn’t know what was wrong with him. He had just wanted to help Scott, and instead he had earned himself an internal crisis as well as the possibility of endless awkwardness around a man he was apparently still attracted to. His best friend was going to _pay_ for that.

Realising there was no way he was going to fall asleep in his current state of confusion, anger, and slight horniness, Stiles turned to roll out of his bed…

… Only to let out an indignant yelp as he came face to face with none other than Lydia Martin, laying in his bed and seemingly sleeping peacefully. And alright, maybe Stiles had been a little drunk earlier, but he didn’t remember sleeping with Lydia or even inviting her into his room.

And even though he had been over the redhead for over two years, he would have definitely remembered that. Stiles was only human, after all, and Lydia was a beautiful woman. A beautiful woman who had told him she was going home with her girlfriend after the party.

“Lydia,” he hissed, shaking his friend lightly and jerking away when she sat up suddenly, almost headbutting him along the way. “Woah there. Sorry to wake you, I just wanted to make sure you knew where you were and what was going on. I though you and Allison were going to head home after the party? Did she end up ditching you?”

“What?” Lydia frowned, blinking blearily. “No, of course not. Allison’s right there.”

Stiles followed the redhead’s finger towards the pile of clothes on his floor and startled slightly as he realised that Allison was, in fact, sleeping in his bedroom. On the floor. In a heap of dubiously clean laundry. Right, he really wasn’t going to question that any more than he was going to question Lydia’s presence.

“Okay, so you’re here,” Stiles whispered. “Why? And would you mind moving over, I really need to get to the kitchen for some fresh air and a glass of water or something.”

“I’ll come with,” Lydia shrugged, standing up and padding towards her girlfriend to kiss her forehead before heading out of the room, Stiles on her heels. “We were too drunk to get out of here. I told Allison I would be her designated driver, but you were all in a middle of a game of True American when I joined the group, and it was far too tempting.”

“Wait, you kept on playing while Derek and I were stuck in the closet?!” Stiles shouted as quietly as he could manage, disbelief written all over his face. “And here I thought we were friends! How dare you continue the game without half of the duo that created it!”

“You didn’t create True American,” Lydia snorted. “And neither did Scott. I’m pretty sure it’s just some weird loft thing that popped up after one too many drunk nights spent together. As for why we kept on playing… Well, just because you and Derek are too cowardly and fragile to kiss each other doesn’t mean we were going to stop having fun. We even managed to get Kira and Scott to kiss during another round of your weird added rule. Great idea, by the way.”

“No, _not_ a great idea,” Stiles snapped, digging through their cupboards for a glass and wincing when he realised Isaac had forgotten to wash the dishes again. “It would have been a great idea if Kira and Scott had succeeded from the get-go. Instead, I was stuck in a closet with Derek Hale for who knows how long, dealing with the world’s most awkward tension.”

“But there was tension to be found?” Lydia asked, grinning maniacally. “Because I always said you weren’t as over him as you claimed to be, and Allison told me Derek once mentioned a hint of attraction towards one of the roomies. We all know Scott is too straight for his tastes, and Isaac is… Well, he’s Isaac.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Isaac,” Stiles frowned, even though he knew exactly what the redhead meant. If there were two people in the world that would never, ever date, it was Derek and Isaac. Those two were the closest thing to family the other had outside of Cora, and the mere thought of them kissing was… _No_. “And yes, there was a slight tension, but it was just the usual stuff, you know? Derek and I always have a little bit of frustration in our hearts, and we like to aim it at each other.”

“Because you want to have sex with him,” Lydia completed smartly.

“No!” Stiles cried out. “Because he’s an annoying person who doesn’t know how to clean the shower properly and always forgets to put his cutlery in the sink! Because I’m the guy who can never shut up and distracts him when he tries to write his novel! The frustration is anything but sexual, Lydia.”

“Of course,” she said as seriously as possible, her mirthful eyes betraying her. “So then, why didn’t you kiss? If it had nothing to do with the sexual tension making things a little too uncomfortable and intense, then what was it? And don’t lie to me, because I will know.”

And she really would. Even when she was drunk – or slightly hungover, in this case – Lydia had an innate lie detector that freaked everyone out and was never, _ever_ wrong. Which meant Stiles was going to have to tell her the truth or remain completely silent.

Unluckily for him, Stiles had never handled silence well.

“He didn’t want to,” he eventually answered, hoping Lydia would take his word for it and pouting when she raised a single eyebrow, obviously waiting for him to expand on his answer. “He didn’t want to do it _like this_. His words, not mine. I told him to kiss me so we could get out of there, and he told he ‘not like this’. That’s why.”

“Oh, wow,” Lydia whistled, sounding more than a little impressed. “And here I thought it was just toxic masculinity or some weird need to prove to us that we would let you out even if you didn’t kiss.”

“Well, you did,” Stiles pointed out.

“That’s besides the point,” Lydia rolled her eyes. “Stiles, you do realise everything you told me about the tension not being sexual completely goes against Derek’s words, right? Because what was that if not a declaration of intentions? Derek wants to sleep with you and maybe even date you. He wants that so much that he couldn’t stand to have your first kiss during a stupid game. It’s really rather romantic.”

“Except it’s not,” Stiles cut her off, clenching his jaw as he glanced towards Derek’s door. “It’s not, because even he didn’t seem to know what the hell he was saying. If it meant something, he would have known. Right?”

“I don’t know,” Lydia shrugged, her eyes lighting up as she spotted something behind Stiles. “Why don’t you ponder on that for a while longer, huh? I have a beautiful girlfriend waiting in your bedroom, and I’m suddenly in the mood for cuddles. Come back when you’ve got your feelings figured out.”

“What- Lydia, what are you-” She was gone before he could ask her what her quick exit had been about, and then he was left alone in the kitchen with a glass of lukewarm water and even more questions than he’d had before his conversation with Lydia.

He still didn’t know what Derek had been trying to say back in the closet, still didn’t know whether his feelings for the older man were real or just a phantom of what he had felt in the beginning, and he still had no clue what he was supposed to do about all of it.

Were they supposed to ignore what had happened? Were they supposed to talk about it? Were they supposed to try the kiss again, but under different circumstances?

“What’re you doing up so late?”

“ _Jesus Christ_!” Stiles stumbled backwards, tripping over nothing and spilling his entire glass of water on himself. Once he had regained his balance, he turned to glare at Derek, who was looking at him amusedly. “What the fuck was that for, dude? Can a guy not drink his water in peace around here! We have rules in place for a reason, Derek, and if you’d care to remember rule number 20…”

“… Never sneak up on people after midnight,” Derek finished in his stead, still looking far too pleased with himself. “That rule, as you’ll remember, doesn’t apply after 5 am, so it’s moot at the moment.”

“That’s- What time is it?” Stiles gaped, digging through his pyjama pockets for his phone and coming up empty-handed. “I could have sworn it was barely past 4 the last time I checked my phone.”

“Well then, it’s probably been a while since you checked your phone,” Derek chuckled, brushing up against Stiles as he leaned over the younger man to grab a glass and making his heart sky-rocket. “But seriously, what are you doing out here? You usually sleep like the dead after getting drunk, and you were _definitely_ drunk earlier.”

“Couldn’t fall asleep,” Stiles shrugged, stepping away from Derek for some much needed personal space. “I guess I just had too much on my mind.”

“Really?” Derek’s eyebrows flew up, as though he couldn’t even begin to imagine why Stiles would have been drowning in thoughts. As though he wasn’t the reason behind every single question flying through Stiles’ mind at the moment. “That’s a first.”

“It’s really not,” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Just because you don’t usually see me walking around like a zombie at random hours of the night doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened before, Derek. I just tend to stay in my bedroom when I can’t sleep. Unfortunately, there are currently two women sleeping there, and I like them enough to not want to wake them, hence the trip to the kitchen. Also, I needed water. What are _you_ doing up?”

“Same as you,” Derek answered, downing the rest of his water and leaning against the sink in a way that made his muscles bulge far too much to be polite or natural. “Needed a non-alcoholic drink to keep me hydrated. And you really weren’t being discreet, so you woke me from my state of semi-sleep. Was I dreaming or was Lydia here?”

“She was,” Stiles said. “She wanted to talk to me about why I couldn’t sleep and what was on my mind, and since she’s a good listener… Well, I wasn’t about to turn down such a golden opportunity.”

“Did she help?” Derek asked, earning himself a confused frown. “With your problems or whatever was on your mind. Did talking to her help?”

“Not really,” Stiles admitted. “But she’s a good friend, and I know she’ll probably check up on me again tomorrow once we’ve dealt with our hangovers and she isn’t too busy with her girlfriend. In the meantime, I have myself and my intrusive thoughts, and those are already too many voices for my tastes.”

“You could always talk to me,” Derek suggested, sounding completely sincere and glancing at Stiles as though he knew exactly what the younger man had been thinking about, which completely clashed with his earlier attitude.

God, Stiles didn’t understand Derek Hale in the slightest.

“See, given the fact that my current questions are mostly centred around you and whatever the hell happened this evening, I think I’m going to pass,” Stiles winced at how callous he sounded, but he wasn’t about to take back his words. Derek had been the one to screw with his mind, so the older man could either deal with his messy emotions or back the hell away from Stiles. “But thank you, I guess. I would have rather talked to you earlier, back when you weren’t making any sense and then just stormed out of the closet with a bloody hand. But still, thank you.”

“Stiles…” Derek murmured, gazing at the brunet with his beautiful, stunning, pleading eyes. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Yeah well,” Stiles shrugged. “Neither do I. It’s fine, Derek, I honestly don’t know what I was expecting to get out of you. You didn’t want to kiss me, and that’s completely alright. I just wish you had told me that straight up instead of weaving it with pretty words as you always do.”

“I wasn’t trying to- Stiles, come on, don’t just walk away,” Derek rushed out of the kitchen to stand in front of Stiles in the hallway, their bodies once again far too close for comfort. “I wasn’t trying to confuse you or mess with your mind. I just… I don’t know.”

“You’ve said that already,” Stiles sniped, deflating as soon as he glanced up at Derek’s imploring features. “Look, it’s not big deal. I’m tired and I think I might actually manage to get some sleep now, so… Good night, Derek.”

“Good night,” the other man murmured, stepping out of the way so Stiles could head towards his room.

Before he could take more than two steps, however, Derek clamped his hand around Stiles’ wrist and twisted him back around, kissing him firmly and quickly and more passionately than Stiles had thought he was capable of.

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek on instinct, kissing him back just as hungrily as Derek was and trying not to think too hard about this being _Derek_ , his roommate, the man he may or may not have been crushing on for the past few years. He pushed all those confusing thoughts to the back of his mind and focused on Derek’s lips instead, on the way he pulled back only to kiss him again, softly and briefly and far more sweetly than what should have been allowed.

When he let Stiles go, unwinding his hands from behind Stiles’ neck and back, the younger man was panting, breathless and unable to think straight. Derek was still there, gazing at him like he was the only light in the world, and Stiles wondered if they could stay there forever.

Unfortunately for him, the answer to that question was often no. Time didn’t stop for anyone, no matter how beautiful a moment was.

“Earlier, when I-” Derek breathed out, his voice breaking beautifully as he spoke. “I meant something like that.”

And then he was stepping out of Stiles’ space and stalking back to his bedroom, not even pausing to look back as he closed his door behind him. Stiles stared at the spot he had vacated for a few seconds, still in a daze and trying to process what had just happened.

Derek had kissed him. Derek had kissed him the way he had wanted to kiss him all along, and Stiles had kissed him back. And for the first time in a long time, neither of them was in a relationship and neither of them was emotionally unavailable, which meant… Which meant it could mean something, if Stiles wanted it to.

Lydia and Allison were in his bedroom at the moment, probably doing things Stiles didn’t want to think about and enjoying their time alone. His bedroom was occupied. And right on the other side of the hall, Derek’s bedroom was free of nuisances and full of one handsome man who had kissed Stiles and liked it.

Stiles still had no idea what was going on; he still didn’t know whether Derek like him or had just wanted to kiss him, and he certainly didn’t know how _he_ felt about the whole thing. The only thing he knew was that he had always liked Derek – at least a little bit – and he wasn’t foolish enough to pass up on the opportunity of a lifetime.

Without giving himself the time to hesitate, he bypassed his own bedroom and slipped into Derek’s, hoping against hope that everything would turn out alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Heya guys! Thank you so much for reading! I watched Nick & Jess' first kiss in New Girl this morning and couldn't get it out of my head, and since it happens to be one of Em's favourite first kiss scenes, I adapted it for our favourite boys. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I liked writing it!
> 
> Love, Junie. 
> 
> (find me on [tumblr](https://hopesilverheart.tumblr.com/))


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